


Branded

by flinchflower



Series: The 50kinkyways [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Branding, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 32: Branding.  Sam dreams of branding, and his family comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Branded

**Author's Note:**

> I had trouble with this one, so it's maybe a little light on the porn.
> 
> I borrowed the characters originally so I could use them as a writing exercise, to see how close I could get the characterization. Then I was corrupted by porn. And kink. Here’s a side of kink. This is simply for practice, not publication or profit. I’m in the hole by about 30 grand, if you’d like to seize my debt as punishment. AU in that I refuse to admit the death of John Winchester.

Sam wakes from his nightmare, screaming, and this time he can’t stop himself, can’t stop the cries that rip through him. Dean and John trip over one another trying to get up the stairs, hearing the terror and the sound of Sam falling from the bed, can’t get into the bedroom fast enough.

Sam’s face is twisted in a rictus of pain, and he’s flailing around, face bloody where he cracked his head on the nightstand. John bodily pins the boy down, barks orders at Dean. The older boy is white as a sheet, and he scrambles in the bathroom with shaking hands for washcloths, the first aid kit, a bowl of water. He hits the floor on his knees, hard, reaching out with one of the washcloths to staunch the blood. Sam is wracked with horrible sobs, broken with pleading, and John’s got him physically subdued, wrapped himself around the boy like a starfish.

Sam clings to Dean enough that he can support part of the boy’s weight, and John gets them on the bed, not letting go. Stroking his hair and murmuring quietly to him, he soothes his baby boy. Dean gets the bleeding under control, taped over with some gauze, bathes Sam’s face with a cool cloth, wiping tears away. Sam seems to panic when Dean turns away, so he straddles both his father’s and Sam’s legs, and wraps his arms around both of them. Sam’s crying calms, sounding more like their boy. Eventually, he’s breathing slowly, and his head nods sleepily.

Dean backs up, sits down next to them, and John rouses Sam.

“Samuel. You can’t go back to sleep, buddy, you hit your head pretty hard. Here, turn a little so I can look at you, ok, kiddo?”

“Dad.” Sam’s mumbling, as if he just realized it was his father holding him. He clings to his father, and John’s eyes fill up with tears. It’s the first time Sam’s been so desperate to have him near in years.

“Dean. Get him some water.” He waits until his oldest son is out of room, pulls Sam closer. “You’re ok, Sammy, I’m here.”

Sam’s eyes are swimming with tears of his own. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not gonna, Sammy. And I’m not losing you or Dean, either. We’re gonna stay safe, ok?” Sam nods tearfully. “You want to tell me what got you so upset? Were you dreaming? Or was that a vision.”

“Just a nightmare.”

“Same one?”

“Started that way, was different. I… I dreamed about the demon, Dad, about the burns you and Dean have – like you were branded some way. I thought I was on fire.”

John’s dealt with this before. Dean had horrible nightmares, after the fire, and he did himself, he’s not surprised Sam’s having them, after losing Jess – he’s just surprised that Dean hasn’t had a recurrence of the dreams.

***

Later, Dean has his arms wrapped tight around Sam. “Still can’t sleep yet, Sam. You hit your head too hard, ok?”

“Damn it, Dean, I can’t stay awake.”

“I think I can think of something to keep you awake, baby.”

Sam groans. “Dean, please, I don’t want to wear my collar-“

“No, no, kiddo, no collar tonight. Just this.” He leans in and kisses him, rewarded by the feeling of Sam getting hard underneath his fingers. They touch, and kiss, and Sam runs his fingers down Dean’s chest. There’s comfort in the soft skin, layers of it that Dean never shows, but Sam knows are there. His fingers stop on the burn scar on Dean’s chest, one that Dean earned pulling Sam from a burning building for the second time in their lives, and his eyes dilate with fear again. “Shhh, Sammy, what is it.”

“I hate this being here,” he says, still touching the scar. “That’s what I dreamed of, branding. That the demon branded us, so he could track-“

“No. If I’m branded in any way, it’s as yours, Sam. Dad told you not to worry, and so did I. You don’t want a spanking, do you?”

Sam shakes his head, buries his face in Dean’s neck, and reminding the older boy of him when he was much younger. “It should have been me.”

Dean shakes his head. “Dad!” This is more important than the sex. He sits both of them up, and Sam is looking confused and hurt, squirms uncomfortably. John hurries in, looking worried.

“What is it, Dean – is he-“

“Remind me, dad, do concussions come with a guilt complex?” Dean taps the scar on his bare chest.

A flash of understanding crosses John’s face, and he sits down on the bed, gives his youngest son a stern look. “Samuel.” Sam tries to turn away, into Dean, and the older boy won’t let him, makes him turn to face their father. John reaches for the boy. “Sam. No, you’re not doing this. Sam, how do you think I feel, when one of you boys is injured on a hunt? If I let myself get guilty over every mark on your hides, I’d be at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon every night. You know better. You think about what happened, and you make plans, train harder, so whatever happened, doesn’t happen again. Action instead of reaction, Sam.” He brushes the hair gently back from Sam’s eyes, looking into them searchingly. “Right now I think you need to get some rest. Dean, you take my bed for the night, and I’m going to stay here with your brother.”

“But-“ The two of them spoke at once, and John repressed a smile. Neither boy is wearing much of anything and even though he thinks maybe Dean might be able to comfort Sam better than he can, he knows his staying will carry a stronger message than the sort of comfort sex that will surely follow if he goes. “I said I want Sam to get some rest. It doesn’t look to me like the two of you were… resting. Get a move on, Dean.” He waited, and when Dean took a minute to get moving, he reached over and swatted the kid. Dean gave him a look, and leaned in to kiss Sam. John just sighed. “Bring me the book on my nightstand before you settle down, please.”

“Dad…” Sam’s voice was a shade away from a whine.

John directed a strict look at the boy. “I meant it about resting. Tomorrow, we’re gonna go out and train, and you’re not gonna skip any meals, either.”

“I’m tired, Dad.”

John wraps a hand around the back of the boy’s head, tips it so he can look at the boy’s eyes. “First of all, you stop with the guilt, you hear me? If you need help with that, let me know, and I can arrange a trip over my knee for you.” He watches Sam blush, lets him drop his eyes for a minute, then gives a little tug. “You lay down, try to sleep – I’ll be right here, wake you up in an hour or two, Sammy.” Sam leans forward a little, and John wraps him in a hug, and then startles the kid by sliding him down onto the pillow like he’s a child. Sam looks up at him, just like he did as a child. This time, John settles back, holds his eyes, trying to impress on Sam that the only brand on either of them is the brand that love leaves, with its trail of heartache behind.


End file.
